


Darkling

by Sweet_Wing_Queen101



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Granger bashing, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, The author likes writing about angst, Tom Riddle is a good person, Tom Riddle | Voldemort Adopts Harry Potter, Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Wing_Queen101/pseuds/Sweet_Wing_Queen101
Summary: Instead of refusing to give Voldemort the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry reveals that his Muggle relatives abuse him and asks Voldemort to rescue him in return for the Stone. Voldemort agrees.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Tom Riddle/Severus Snape
Comments: 21
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

“Now… why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?” the face of Voldemort mocked.

The boy swallowed. Voldemort assumed it was because he was terrified. Which was true, but not of him.

“Okay,” Potter said in a small voice.

That was _not_ the reply Voldemort had expected. He had assumed the child would refuse, like the good little paragon of Light he was.

“…what?” he said flatly.

“I’ll… I’ll let you have the Stone,” Potter rasped. “But…”

Ah, of course. The brat wanted something in return. “Very well, Lord Voldemort rewards those who serve him. What is it you want in return? Glory? Money? Sugar?”

“I want…” Potter swallowed again. “I want you to take me away from my Muggle relatives.”

Well… _that_ was unexpected.

“Potter, do you take me for a fool?” Voldemort demanded. “Dumbledore would never give you to Muggle scum. You grew up with purebloods!”

Potter flinched. “No, I grew up with my aunt P-petunia.”

Voldemort frowned. The child would have never known his aunt’s name if he hadn’t grown up with her.

Come to think of it…

Throughout the year, Potter had shown signs that his home life was not _pleasant._ He would flinch at any sign that someone might hit him, he spoke quietly, and he was obviously smarter than he pretended. He was also much skinnier and shorter than an eleven-year-old should have been. He didn’t eat much at meals and he constantly had shadows under his eyes, showing his lack of sleep.

“Why?” Voldemort asked slowly. He wanted to see if he was right.

Potter shuddered. “They, um… don’t like me. At all.”

“Magic-hating Muggles?” Voldemort guessed. Harry nodded, flinching again. “Potter, what exactly do they do? You don’t have to tell me everything.”

Potter looked down, then took a deep breath. “They make me sleep in a cupboard. I… they make me do all the chores, and make them meals, and if I m-mess up-” He flinched again. Apparently it was possible for Voldemort to turn paler. “They let me eat leftovers sometimes, if I do the chores well….” Potter was shaking now. “My c-cousin… l-likes beating m-me up… my uncle…” he stopped, shuddering and curling in on himself.

No. Surely not. “He does things that make you… uncomfortable?” Voldemort asked carefully.

Potter looked about ten seconds away from bolting, crying, or collapsing. “Y-yes, sir.”

“As soon as I have my body back, I will take you from those… Muggles.” Voldemort had wanted to call them something much fouler, but the child was _eleven._ “But to get my body back, I need the Stone.”

The boy pulled the red stone out of his trouser pocket and held it out shyly. Quirrell turned around and took the Stone.

“I don’t want Dumbledore to suspect what has happened, so Quirrell will have to lock your memories and Stun you,” Voldemort added.

“S-Stun?” the boy asked, sounding confused.

“A spell that will knock you out,” Voldemort explained.

“And… what about… locking my memories?”

“You won’t remember what happened, because they will be behind a barrier in your mind,” Voldemort replied. “I will return your memories to you when I come to take you from the… Muggles.”

“Okay,” the boy said softly. “Thank you.”

Voldemort’s black heart stirred. It was the first time in years that he had ever felt affection for anyone. But the child was so sweet.

Well, he _did_ need an heir, and several Dark rituals had left him unable to produce an offspring of his own….

Voldemort opened his eyes.

The ritual had gone well. He now had a body — and not the horrific bald half-snake body he’d had before going to the Potters’ to kill the child. He had hair and a _nose._

“Quirrell, my wand,” Voldemort said, sitting up. The trembling man beside his bed handed him his beautiful yew wand, and he flicked it. A full-length mirror appeared, allowing him to see exactly what he looked like.

He looked like an older version of his sixteen-year-old self — dark hair, high cheekbones, elegant features. The only difference was that he had deep amber eyes.

“Excellent,” he murmured. “ _~Nagini!~_ ”

His familiar slid out from under the bed and onto his lap. Quirrell yelped and jumped back. “ _~You’re awake, Masssster!~_ ” she hissed happily.

“ _~I’m awake, pet,~_ ” Voldemort smirked, stroking her head. “ _~You’ll ssssoon have ssssomeone to eat.~_ ” He had a _special_ torture prepared for the child’s uncle, but Nagini could eat the pathetic aunt.

“ _~Thank you, Masssster,~_ ” Nagini said brightly. “ _~Who iz Nagini eating?~_ ”

“ _~A desssspicable creature who hurtssss hatchlingssss,~_ ” Voldemort said icily, standing. Nagini hissed in disgust. “Filly!”

A house-elf popped into the room. “Yes, Master Dark Lord?”

“Prepare a room for a small child, close to mine,” Voldemort instructed, sighing inwardly at the name. “Harry has been abused, so leave some chocolate. You will also be his personal elf.” He still had nine elves. He supposed that was enough for a Dark Lord.

Filly’s eyes widened. “Filly will be taking care of poor sweet child.” She disappeared again with a small crack.

Voldemort set the snake down on his bed. “ _~I’ll be back, pet. I have to ressssscue the hatchling and your meal.~_ ”

“ _~Hurry, Masssster. Nagini iz hungry,~_ ” Nagini pouted.

Voldemort kissed the top of the snake’s head, pulled some robes on over his clothes, and left, beckoning to Quirrell.

“I have no idea where the Muggles live, but I believe Severus might, given he knew Petunia Evans,” Voldemort said as the two of them strode down the hall to the study. “I will need to summon him, which means you will need a Dark Mark.”

Quirrell’s eyes widened with awe. “Yes, my Lord.”

Voldemort pulled out his wand and gestured for Quirrell to lower his left sleeve. The man eagerly did so.

“ _~Mordsmodre,~_ ” Voldemort hissed, digging his wand into the wizard’s arm. Quirrell tensed as black ink flowed out of Voldemort’s wand, forming into a snake and skull. He removed his wand, and Quirrell breathed in relief. Voldemort grabbed Quirrell’s arm and pressed his finger to the Mark, summoning Severus, and Narcissa for good measure. The child would need a Healer.

A moment later, the door opened and Tizzy, one of his house-elves, announced in his high-pitched squeak, “Potions Master Severus Snape and Healer Narcissa Malfoy, Master Dark Lord!”

Severus, whose expression was blank as always, and Narcissa, who was pale but also relieved, stood behind the elf. Voldemort waved them inside the office.

“It has come to my attention,” he said sharply, getting instantly to business, “that Harry Potter was abused.”

Narcissa’s hands flung to her mouth in horror. Tizzy squawked in alarm.

“Are you sure, my Lord?” Severus asked cautiously.

“Severus, I’m well aware of how you feel of the child,” Voldemort hissed at him, and Severus flinched back slightly. “He was not raised by purebloods or spoiled. He was, in fact, raised by his Muggle aunt.” Severus’ eyes widened a little. “His uncle appears to have r***d him-” Narcissa and Tizzy gasped, and Severus looked nauseated “-and they starved him. His bedroom was a _cupboard._ I made a deal with him — I would rescue him from the pathetic Muggles if he gave me the Sorcerer’s Stone. But he will need a Healer.”

Narcissa lowered her hands, nodding. “I’ll be glad to help, my Lord.”

“I do not know where they live,” Voldemort added. He ignored Narcissa’s exasperated, fond eye-roll. “Which is why I summoned _you,_ Severus.”

“All I know is that they live in Little Whinging,” Severus said sourly. “But I do have a potion that will show us the exact location of Potter. I will need his hair, skin, or blood.”

Voldemort walked behind his desk and opened a drawer. Then he pulled out a vial containing one long hair. He had taken one just in case Severus didn’t know where Potter lived.

Severus pulled a vial out of his robes — of _course_ he would have it on him — and took the hair from him. He dropped the hair into the vial, which bubbled for a minute before turning silver. He blinked in surprise.

“What is it?” Voldemort asked curiously.

“The potion turns different colors depending on whether the wizard is a Dark, Grey, or Light wizard,” Severus said slowly. “The potion will turn gold if they are Light, blue if they are Grey, and silver if they are Dark. Are you sure this is Potter’s hair, my Lord?”

“I took it directly from his head,” Voldemort said coldly.

“I was merely surprised that Potter was Dark, my Lord,” Severus said blankly. “I was not questioning you.” He pulled a piece of parchment from his robes and laid it on Voldemort’s desk, letting a drop of the potion fall onto the paper.

It glowed a moment, and then words in Severus’ spidery green handwriting appeared:

_Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, London_


	2. Chapter 2

Harry shivered, pulling the raggedy blanket closer around him.

It had been three weeks since he’d gotten home for the summer. Four since he’d given the Stone to Voldemort.

And Voldemort hadn’t come.

He should have realized. He was a Freak. No one cared about him. Voldemort never would have helped him anyway.

At that moment, there was a loud _bang,_ making Harry jump, then wince — he hadn’t recovered from Uncle Vernon’s latest beating.

And a familiar, high, cold voice started growling out orders.

“Severus, Quirrell, find the pathetic Muggles and take them to the dungeons.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Quirrell excitedly, and Harry heard hurried footsteps up the stairs. He heard Snape echo Quirrell, but in a dour, irritable voice. Harry stifled a giggle.

There was a clicking sound, indicating the cupboard was unlocked. The door opened, revealing a blond woman with gentle but aristocratic features. She bore such similarity to an annoying blond Slytherin that Harry gasped.

“I won’t hurt you, Heir Potter,” the woman who was most certainly Draco Malfoy’s mother said gently. “My name is Healer Narcissa Malfoy. Our Lord would like me to heal you.”

“…is a Healer like a doctor, ma’am?” Harry asked softly, nervously, scooting slightly closer.

“Yes, Potter,” said the high cold voice, and a man stepped into view.

He was not white, bald, snake-eyed, or noseless. He was still very pale, but his eyes were still red — or rather a deep amber — and he had wavy black locks and a small nose. He, like Healer Malfoy, had aristocratic features, but they were softer.

“Potter, Narcissa will be making sure you are completely healthy,” Voldemort said bluntly. “As soon as you are the weight you need to be and without scars, we will take you to Gringotts.”

“Wh-why?” Harry asked, then flinched when heard Vernon’s voice snarl, _Don’t ask questions, Freak!_ “I’m sorry, sir-”

“Potter, you grew up ignorant of the wizarding world, I expect you to ask questions,” Voldemort said sharply. “And I will not punish you for asking questions you shouldn’t. We will speak more at Riddle Manor.”

“R-riddle Manor, sir?” Harry rasped, trying to stand so he could follow Voldemort out of the cupboard. He yelped when his broken ankle flared with pain, and he collapsed again.

Healer Malfoy gave him an alarmed, concerned look, which was tempered with slight anger. The anger didn’t seem to be directed at him, but Harry flinched back anyway.

“I won’t hurt you, child,” she said softly. “Seeing as you cannot walk, would you mind if I carried you?”

Harry swallowed. The woman had an air of motherly kindness. His instincts told her he could trust her. Finally he nodded and hesitantly lifted his arms.

Healer Malfoy _cooed,_ which made Harry turn bright red, then gently scooped him into her arms. “You’re very light,” she said in concern as she stood up.

“Don’t eat a lot, ma’am,” Harry mumbled, automatically relaxing.

“Call me Cissa, Heir Potter,” Healer Malfoy said kindly, looking concerned and angry again.

“Y-you can c-call me Harry,” Harry stammered. “Um… why did you call me ‘ _Heir_ Potter?’”

She looked puzzled, and Voldemort sighed, pinching his nose. “Didn’t your — no, of course not,” she grumbled, “they wouldn’t have been allowed past the barrier into Diagon Ally. I’ll explain later, Harry, dear.”

Harry blushed lightly.

Snape and Quirrell appeared a moment later, Petunia and Vernon gagged and bound, and a confused four-year-old Dudley tottering behind.

“The child will go to a foster family in America,” Voldemort stated. “Find one that does not harm the children.” Quirrell nodded and took the child’s hand, disappearing with a loud pop.

Harry blinked, gaping at him. Sensing Harry’s question, Voldemort explained, “We do not kill or torture children, magical or not.”

Harry frowned slightly. “Um. But. You tried to kill me,” he mumbled.

“I most certainly did not!” Voldemort snapped. He softened his voice _slightly_ when Harry flinched. “You were prophesied to be my downfall by _Dumbledore,_ and I wanted to make sure he did not attempt to turn you into a weapon to kill me. I do not believe anything that comes from the man. However, when I showed up, Dumbledore was there, and your parents were dead.”

“Wh-what?” Harry squeaked. “D-Dumbledore — he k-killed-”

“My Lord,” Narcissa said sharply, pulling him closer. Harry relaxed and nuzzled closer. “He has been _abused._ Soften your tone — and by Morgana, if you traumatize him more, I will make sure you become one of my patients!”

Silence. Harry peeked out and burst into quiet giggles when he saw Voldemort’s and Snape’s absolutely stunned expression.

“Fine,” Voldemort muttered, regaining his composure. “I… _apologize,_ Potter.”

Snape’s head whipped around, turning his astounded expression on the Dark Lord. Apparently, Voldemort _never_ apologized. Harry was giggling so hard at this point that all he could do was nod in response. Voldemort quickly moved on.

“Time to go,” he said shortly. He led the two of them out of the house.

A group of people wearing black cloaks and sleek silver masks were crowded at the entrance, chatting. They silenced when Voldemort approached them.

“Burn it to the ground,” he growled.

“What about my trunk and Hedwig!” Harry squawked. He blanched when Voldemort turned to him.

“Your owl was sent to the Manor, and your trunk is in my pocket, Potter,” Snape said flatly.

Harry gaped at him. “How-”

“ _Magic,_ Potter. I _presume_ you’ve heard of-”

Narcissa cut off his sarcastic drawl with a sharp, “Severus, remember last Christmas.”

Snape went even whiter. Several of the cloaked figures sniggered as they went past him. One of them paused beside him.

“She is terrifying, isn’t she,” said a drawling tone, with slight affection. Narcissa blushed faintly.

“Lucius, get back to work,” Voldemort said irritably. Harry saw a mixture of amusement and exasperation in his eyes, but his face was blank.

“Yes, my Lord.” He joined the other masked figures in front of Number 4.

“ _Incendio!_ ” they cried as one.

Bright orange fire flew out of their wands, and instantly the house burst into flames. Harry’s last view of his old home was the building collapsing, before he was pulled into what felt like a skinny tube.

He and Narcissa reappeared in front of a large, elegant mansion. Harry gasped, leaned over, and retched — directly onto Narcissa’s shoes. When he finally stopped throwing up, he looked up at Narcissa with a panicked expression. He was slightly woozy.

To his surprise, she didn’t look angry or disgusted at all. She looked concerned.

“I’m sorry, dear, I forgot how disorienting Side-Along Apparition is the first time,” Narcissa said worriedly. Harry felt her flick her wrist. He looked down, puzzled, and blinked when he saw that his puke had vanished.

“H… how,” he said weakly.

“Oh dear. You need food,” Narcissa sighed.

“Filly!”

Harry jumped; Voldemort was right next to him, expression regal and cold.

A small fairy-like, wingless creature appeared. In a squeaky, high-pitched voice, it said, “Master Dark Lord be calling Filly?”

“Bring Potter some light dinner, preferably some lettuce and cheese,” Voldemort ordered. “I will transfer you to Potter when he’s eaten.”

“Yes, Master Dark Lord, sir,” Filly squeaked, casting Harry a concerned look before disappearing with another pop.

“I need to make sure my followers left the scene before the Aurors arrive,” Voldemort told Narcissa flatly, before he was gone with a much louder crack.

Narcissa sighed as she walked inside. “I’m sorry, he’s extremely rude.”

Harry giggled dazedly and rested his head on Narcissa’s shoulder. He was really hungry. His stomach hurt….

When he woke up, he was lying on a sort of hospital bed in a small hospital room, and his foot, arm, torso, and ribs didn’t hurt any more. He was still extremely hungry, and he spotted a plate of lettuce and little cubes of cheese on a little table next to him. Narcissa had fallen asleep in a chair beside his bed.

Harry reached for the plate, and there was a slight buzzing noise. Narcissa started awake and looked relieved when she saw he was, too.

“What time is it, C-Cissa?” Harry asked shyly.

Narcissa pulled out her wand and said, “ _Tempus._ ”

“300 hours,” stated a cool, serene voice. Harry blinked. He would definitely have to remember that one.

“Oh dear, it’s three in the morning,” Narcissa sighed. “Eat as much as you can, and I’ll talk while you eat. Slowly,” she cautioned. “If you eat too quickly you’ll throw up again.”

Harry pulled the plate onto his chest, nodding. He ripped a small piece off of the lettuce and popped it into his mouth.

“Now, as a Healer, I need your permission to cast the Medical History Charm,” Narcissa began.

Harry blanched. Narcissa gave him a concerned look. “The Dark Lord already informed me of most of your wounds, dear. Including everything your… uncle did to you.” She was clearly editing out what she wanted to call Vernon. “As a Healer, I am bound to secrecy. No one will know the extent of your medical history except your guardian, and even then, only with your permission am I allowed to share it with him.”

Harry swallowed. Narcissa wouldn’t judge him, he knew — hoped. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, “You can do the spell. A-and I don’t have a guardian.”

“The Dark Lord is your guardian, or will be,” Narcissa explained, gently tapping Harry on the head. “ _Medica Historis._ ”

A scroll of parchment popped into view, landing on the bed. Narcissa looked alarm as it got bigger and bigger.

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered.

“It is _not_ your fault, Harry,” Narcissa said in a gently stern tone, her eyes full of affection and rage. “It is the fault of those Muggles.” She picked up the scroll and opened it. Then she went white.

“Dobby!” she called in a panicky tone.

A creature similar to Filly appeared, except Harry had the distinct impression that this one was male. “Mistress Malfoy be calling Dobby?” Dobby said, his voice still high but slightly deeper than Filly’s.

“Fetch the Dark Lord, _now,_ ” Narcissa said hoarsely. “This needs to be remedied, and only the goblins have the ability to do so.”

Dobby blanched. “Yes, Mistress Malfoy!” he disappeared with a loud pop.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked Narcissa anxiously.

She swallowed. “It appears that someone has put a block on your magic, and been giving you compulsions.”

“Wh-what are c-compulsions?” Harry rasped. They sounded bad.

“A nasty spell or potion that causes one to feel or do certain things that would never do under their own monition,” Narcissa said faintly, taking a seat again. “Similar to the Imperious Curse, but only makes one do or feel _one_ thing.”

“Can — can I see?” Harry asked hesitantly. He already knew everything on the list except the compulsions and blocks, and he wanted to see when he’d been given them.

Narcissa bit her lip, then sighed. She handed the scroll to Harry.

_Summary: magical block, multiple compulsions, bones healed crooked, multiple scars, r***d multiple times, Horcrux_

_Age 1:_

_Bruise, sprained ankle (fell off magical broom) (healed)_

_Age 2:_

_Horcrux (planted accidentally by Lord Voldemort) (ineffective)_

_50% Block on Magic (placed by [unknown signature]) (REMOVE IMMEDIATELY)_

_Compulsions: act scared, act submissive, trust adults except the Dursleys (placed by [unknown signature]) (worn off)_

Harry skimmed over the abuse parts, only reading the compulsions. The next one didn’t appear until his eleventh birthday.

_Age 11:_

_Compulsions (placed monthly): act scared, submissive, trust adults, trust Rubeus Hagrid, hate Slytherins, distrust Draco Malfoy, distrust Severus Snape, hate potions, be distracted, be reckless (placed by [unknown signature]) (REMOVE IMMEDIATELY)_

The door burst open, and an angry, groggy Voldemort appeared. “What,” he hissed, “possessed you to wake me up at _three in the b****y morning?_ ”

Narcissa stood up, eyes flashing. “Harry has been put under _compulsions_ and has a _block on his magic,_ and you’re complaining that _I woke you up early?_ ”

Voldemort was suddenly wide awake. “ _Who darez harm a child’z magical core?_ ” he snarled, eyes turning to snake-like slits. Harry paled and flinched back.

“Calm down before you make Harry go into hysterics, my Lord,” Narcissa snapped. Voldemort deflated, but he was still panting with anger. “The test couldn’t recognize the magical signature. We will have to take him to Gringotts and give him a Magical Aura test.”

Voldemort scowled. “I was already planning to go to Gringotts and blood-adopt the child.”

Harry gaped. “Y-you w-want me? Y-you… you d-don’t think I-I’m a f-f-f-f-freak?”

“Magical children are not freaks!” Voldemort sputtered indignantly. Narcissa rolled her eyes and leaned forward, kissing Harry on the head. This made him relax.

“Listen to me very carefully, Harry,” she said softly, her expression firm but her eyes soft. “You are _not_ a freak. You are a talented, kind, wonderful child.”

Harry felt his eyes stinging and looked down. “Th-thank you,” he whispered.

She turned to the Dark Lord, who looked livid, but Harry could tell it wasn’t directed at him. “We need to take him to Gringotts as soon as possible to remove the blocks and compulsions, but not until he gets some sleep and eats.” She sent a sharp look at Harry, who jumped a little and quickly ate the last bit of lettuce.

Voldemort scowled. “Very well. I will be taking him to Gringotts as soon as he has eaten breakfast. Then you will be buying him-”

“I will do no such thing,” Narcissa said sharply. “You seem to have forgotten two things, my Lord — you will be Harry’s _guardian,_ which means _you_ have to shop with him. Secondly, _I_ have a job — one which _you_ gave me.”

The Dark Lord looked extremely irritated, but Narcissa was apparently not someone to mess with. “Very well,” he said again.

“I expect him back by dinner, he is still my patient, after all,” Narcissa said briskly. She turned to Harry. “I won’t be here in the morning, so let me tell you your new diet…”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, after Potter had drunk two apparently disgusting potions and eaten some nuts and cheese, an irritable, still-sleepy Voldemort Flooed the both of them into the Leaky Cauldron. They were both wearing glamors: they both looked identical, with pale brown hair, light green eyes, and pureblood features.

Voldemort led Potter out to the back, ignoring the customers and Tom, who was looking at them with a curious look.

“Are you new here?” a clear Muggleborn asked curiously. Voldemort ignored them, pulling Potter out to the back.

“That was kind of rude,” Potter mumbled, looking anxious.

“Prying into another wizard’s business, especially one you do not know, is rude,” Voldemort replied stiffly, pulling out his wand to open the secret entrance. “If you want to be a Gryffindor, tell them politely to mind their own business.”

“Okay,” Potter said softly.

“I will have to teach you to be a proper pureblood,” he muttered. He took Potter’s hand just as the entrance appeared and pulled him forward, not hard enough to make the boy stumble.

When they entered, Voldemort approached a goblin and was about to demand to see his accountant when Potter stepped forward.

“Greetings, sir goblin,” he said shyly.

The goblin blinked, and his expression softened minutely. “Greetings, sir wizard. What do you need today?”

Potter glanced up at Voldemort nervously. Voldemort said flatly, “I wish to see my accountant, Thornaxe.”

The goblin sneered slightly at him. “Very well. Griphook!”

Potter seemed to brighten as another goblin appeared. “Hi, Grip- I mean, greetings, sir goblin,” Potter said quickly.

Griphook stared at him, then said, “Greetings, sir wizard.”

“Take the child who knows our greetings and this wizard to Thornaxe,” the teller instructed.

Voldemort frowned a little. Where had Potter learned goblin greetings?

“May your enemies fall by your hand,” the goblin said briskly to the child.

“May… may your…” Potter screwed up his face as if trying to remember something.

“Gold,” Griphook coaxed.

Potter perked up. “May your gold grow. Thanks, sir goblin,” he added shyly.

“You are one of the few wizards who willingly learn our greetings,” Griphook replied as he led them to one of the back doors. “And you are very young. We do not expect you to remember everything.”

He stopped by a door and knocked. “Enter,” said another goblin’s voice. Griphook opened the door, revealing a small office and a bored-looking Gringotts employee.

“Sir wizard and his… guardian are here for business with the Gaunt and Slytherin vaults, Accountant Thornaxe,” Griphook stated. Potter gasped and turned to look at Voldemort with shock.

“Very well,” Thornaxe said darkly, glowering at Voldemort. They had never gotten along well. “Sit down.”

Griphook dipped his head, shutting the door after them. Voldemort strode forward and sat down. Potter quickly followed.

“Greetings, sir goblin,” Potter said quietly before Thornaxe spoke again.

Thornaxe’s expression softened slightly. “Greetings, sir wizard.” He turned to Voldemort and his expression sharpened again. “You may remove your glamours. What do you want, Lord Slytherin?”

Potter gaped again. Voldemort flicked his wand lazily, revealing the skinny, short brat and his true form.

“First, I discovered that the child has a block on his magic and several compulsions,” Voldemort stated. Thornaxe blanched. “I would like to buy a Magic Aura test and a Magical Purge. Take the Galleons from the Slytherin vault.”

“Shall I start the bid?” Thornaxe drawled.

“Um…” Voldemort and the goblin turned to look at Potter, who shrank back slightly. “C-can… can I do it, s-sir?”

Voldemort sighed and pinched his nose. “Since I will be blood-adopting you, you may call me…” he grimaced. “ _Tom._ ”

“But you don’t like that name,” Potter noted.

Voldemort blinked at him. “Marvolo, then. My middle name. It’s not as deplorably _Muggle._ ”

Potter giggled, relaxing. “Okay, M-marvolo.” He turned to the goblin.

“I would normally not allow you to barter with Lord Slytherin’s money, but as you are to be his ward, I will make an exception,” Thornaxe decided. “Fifty Galleons each.”

“Thirty each,” Potter declined.

“Forty each.”

“Thirty-five each,” Potter countered. Voldemort raised a brow. The child was rather good at this.

“Done,” the goblin smirked, then pulled out a piece of parchment and a needle. “You are surprisingly adept at haggling, Heir Potter.”

“I, um, haven’t taken my heirships yet, I don’t think,” Potter admitted. _What?!_

“That will be remedied after the purge,” the goblin said with a scowl. He handed Potter the needle and pushed the parchment towards him. “Three drops of blood, little wizard.”

Potter blushed a little and pricked his finger, then squeezed three drops onto the paper. Words appeared:

_Magic Aura Test for H. J. P.-B.:_

_Magical Core: Dark (50% block [signature unknown]) (REMOVE IMMEDIATELY)_

_Magical Talents: Necromancy (50% block, [signature unknown]), Defense (10% block, [signature unknown]), Dark magic (100% block, [signature unknown]), Parselmouth (30% block, [signature unknown]), Parselmagic (100% block, [signature unknown])_ _Animagi (100% block, [signature unknown])_ _(REMOVE BLOCKS IMMEDIATELY)_

_Magical Creature: None_

_Bond(s): (romantic soulmate) Draco Lucius Malfoy (100% block, [signature unknown]) (godbrother) Neville Longbottom (100% block, [signature unknown] (godfather) Sirius Orion Black (100% block, [signature unknown]) (godmother) Minerva McGonagall (100% block, [signature unknown]) (REMOVE BLOCK IMMEDIATELY)_

_Compulsions (placed monthly since July 31, 1991): act scared, submissive, trust adults, trust Rubeus Hagrid, hate Slytherins, distrust Draco Malfoy, distrust Severus Snape, hate potions, be distracted, be reckless (placed by [unknown signature]) (REMOVE IMMEDIATELY)_

_Other: Horcrux (0.015625%) (planted accidentally by Lord Voldemort) (ineffective)_

_Suggest IMMEDIATE Magical Purge and medical assistance._

Voldemort stared blankly at the test. _Potter was one of his Horcruxes? How was that possible? He hadn’t cast the Killing Curse at the boy!_

…this was probably Dumbledore’s doing. All of Voldemort’s problems usually stemmed from that stupid old man.

“Um… why does it say P.-B.?” Potter asked the goblin.

“Likely because your of your godfather, Lord Black,” Thornaxe replied, taking the parchment back. He hissed. “How _dare_ someone block magical bonds! Especially a child’s!” He shook himself. “Lord Black blood-adopted you briefly to protect you — and because he had no heir, given that his soulmate was unable to bear children.”

“What’s a soulmate?” Potter asked quietly.

“There are different kinds,” Voldemort said tightly. “With platonic soulmates, their magic connects them, allows them to bond as very close friends. With familial soulmates, their magic connects them, allowing them to bond as siblings. With romantic soulmates, their magic connects them and allows them to bond as lovers… eventually. That bond usually doesn’t come until they’re of age. Most people don’t usually have soulmates, and if they do, they only have one of the three.”

Potter turned bright red, then looked extremely upset. “B-but. M-malfoy _h-hates_ me,” he rasped.

Voldemort winced, and Thornaxe looked incredibly concerned. “I will have to make him-”

“Lord Slytherin, you know very well that you cannot force someone to love another,” Thornaxe snapped. “Little heir, how well does Heir Malfoy know you?”

Potter swallowed, still looking distraught. “He… d-doesn’t r-really kn-know me, but… h-he’s ne-never tried to.”

“Then let him get to know you,” Thornaxe said gently. “Now, we had better get those blocks removed. Lord Slytherin, what of the Horcrux?”

“I am planning to restore most of my soul,” Voldemort said finally. Potter looked confused. “Making more than one was highly unintelligent.”

“Making _one_ was highly unintelligent,” Thornaxe muttered, making Potter giggle. “We will keep the Horcrux inside the child. In any case, the piece of soul will most likely have bonded with his own, making it nearly impossible and extremely painful to remove it. If you are going to keep one of your Horcruxes, I recommend Heir Potter.”

Voldemort nodded absently.

“Now, child, I must warn you that the Magic Purge is very painful,” Thornaxe said quietly.

“I can handle it, sir goblin,” Potter said bravely.

_B****y Gryffindors._ Voldemort felt a flash of fondness for the brat, then quickly stifled it. He was a Dark Lord! He! Did! Not! Like! Children!

…of course, the child was just like him at his age: untrusting of adults, ignorant of his power, shy, quiet….

_NO! Dark Lord!_

When he came out of his stupor, Potter was being led out by a goblin healer. Voldemort watched them go with slight trepidation.

“You like the child, don’t you,” Thornaxe said with amusement.

“No!” Voldemort was annoyed that the statement sounded like a childish protest.

Thornaxe chuckled but changed the subject. “Is there any other business you have at Gringotts today?”

“I am blood-adopting the child,” Voldemort said flatly. Realizing what that suggested, he said quickly, “I need an heir and I refuse to leave a child without a guardian, even if I do not like the brats.”

Thornaxe nodded knowingly. “Blood-adoptions are fifty galleons per child.”

_Blood Test for Hadrian Salazar Slytherin:_

_Birth Name: Harrison James Potter-Black_

_Birth Parents: James Fleamont Potter (deceased), Lily Potter Née Evans (deceased)_

_Blood-Adopted Parent(s): Sirius Orion Black (briefly; living, compromised), Tom Marvolo Riddle (living)_

_Godparents: Sirius Orion Black (living, compromised), Minerva McGonagall (living, compromised), Alice Longbottom Née Fortescue (living, compromised, unable to form godmother bond)_

_Godbrother: Neville Longbottom_

_Titles: Boy-Who-Lived; Chosen One; Master of Death; Dark Lord’s Heir_

_Lord to: (can claim at 17)_

_Potter_

_Merlin (through Potter family)_

_Gryffindor (through Potter family)_

_Ravenclaw (through Evans family)_

_Hufflepuff (through Evans family)_

_Heir to: (can claim when guardian passes on title)_

_Gaunt_

_Slytherin (through Gaunt family)_

_Peverell (through Gaunt family)_

_Pendragon (through Riddle family)_

_Black (through Black family)_

_McGonagall (through McGonagall family)_


	4. Chapter 4

Harry blinked at his new name. Hadrian sounded so… sophisticated, Pureblood, and powerful. He still felt like that Freak Under the Stairs.

He didn’t look like the Freak Under the Stairs, though. The Blood Adoption and Magic Purge had changed his looks entirely. He was taller, with handsome, Pureblooded features; his hair looked more like Marvolo’s silky, wavy locks than his dad’s messy weeds; his green eyes were lighter and slightly eerie-looking. He no longer looked like a specky git with glasses — which he didn’t need anymore.

He glanced up at Marvolo as the man said, “You will be the accountant for Hadrian’s vaults as well.”

“Please, sir goblin,” Harr-Hadrian said quickly.

Thornaxe smirked. “You can call me Thornaxe, little heir.”

Hadrian blushed lightly. “Um, okay. You can call me Har-Hadrian,” he amended. He’d better start getting used to his new name. Thornaxe nodded, looking amused.

“Now Hadrian will receive his heirships,” Marvolo ordered, looking slightly irritated.

“Please,” Hadrian added.

“I am a Dark Lord. Dark Lords do not say ‘please,’” Marvolo snapped.

Hadrian blinked up at him. How would he persuade a Dark Lord to be polite? After a pause, he said shyly, “The goblin nation is powerful, and could be a great ally.”

He heard Thornaxe give a muffled choke of laughter.

Marvolo frowned slightly and turned to the goblin. “The brat was never this cunning… sir goblin.” He sounded strangled. Hadrian covered his mouth to hide a giggle.

“The Blood Test allows him to take some characteristics from you, Lord Slytherin, while still retaining most of the characteristics from his biological parents,” Thornaxe said, looking as if he was hiding a laugh as well. “The goblin nation will probably never align itself with _you,_ but we might be persuaded to ally ourselves with your heir.” He nodded to Hadrian, who was gaping at him.

“That… is acceptable,” Marvolo grumbled.

“Now you will receive your heirships,” Thornaxe added, pulling out a small box. He opened it, revealing several rings.

There were smaller versions of the ones on Marvolo’s fingers: the odd symbol of a triangle, line, and circle and a green Ouroboros; a small golden dragon that was eating its tail; a thin silver band with a black diamond; a lioness; a black bird that Hadrian didn’t recognize; a golden lion; a bronze eagle; and a black-and-yellow badger.

“Repeat after me, Hadrian,” Thornaxe instructed. “‘I, Hadrian Salazar Slytherin, accept the heirships for Merlin, Griffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Peverell, Pendragon, Black, and McGonagall.’”

Hadrian dutifully repeated it. The box glowed, and then he was suddenly wearing all of the rings. He yelped when another one appeared on his tenth finger — a silver band with a circle and a star.

Marvolo and Thornaxe gasped quietly. “Lady Magic has accepted Hadrian as the Dark Lord’s heir,” Thornaxe said breathlessly.

Hadrian blushed. “Um… thanks, Lady Magic.”

The ring glowed momentarily, and Hadrian thought heard a soft laugh. Thornaxe and Marvolo stared at him. Blushing harder, Hadrian changed the subject.

“Why aren’t there any for Gaunt and Potter?” Hadrian asked curiously.

Thornaxe blinked, and Marvolo scowled. “They both squandered their Lordships away,” he said dryly. “The Gaunts because they had numerous debts, and the Potters because _Dumbledore,_ ” he sneered, “needed the money for the Order of the Phoenix.”

“What’s a phoenix?” Hadrian asked curiously.

“That,” Thornaxe said, pointing at the black bird ring, “is a Knight Phoenix, and the symbol of the house of Merlin. The Knight Phoenix is the Dark version of a phoenix, and has the powers of darkness. A phoenix has the powers of fire and healing. They are both very rare.

“Do you have any other questions?” Thornaxe asked.

“Um, yes. What does Master of Death mean?” Hadrian asked shyly.

Marvolo blinked and looked down at the Blood Test again. His jaw dropped, and Hadrian burst into quiet giggles.

Thornaxe smirked. “It seems you are accepted by _both_ the magical entities. As Master of Death, you cannot die. Well, you _can,_ but the Killing Curse does nothing, and if you _do_ somehow pass on, you can ask Lord Death to bring you back. This explains why you are a true Necromancer,” he added. “Those are very rare.”

“What’s a Necromancer?” Hadrian asked, blushing.

“Their magic is attuned to Blood Magic, Death Magic, and Soul Magic,” Thornaxe explained.

“Oh.”

“Any other questions?” Thornaxe asked.

“I don’t think so,” Hadrian said shyly.

“Well then. Which vault would you like to withdraw from?”

Two hours later, they’d finished shopping — buying a new wardrobe and his school things for the next year — and had lunch. Marvolo was about to leave Diagon when Hadrian blurted, “M-marvolo, can — may I please have a pet?”

He blanched when Marvolo turned to him, frowning. _Freaks don’t get treats!_ Vernon’s voice snarled.

But Marvolo didn’t say that.

“Only if it’s a snake,” was what he said. Hadrian stifled a rather hysterical giggle. He didn’t know why he was surprised.

“Th-thank you,” Hadrian said in a small voice.

He thought he saw a flicker of concern in the man’s eyes. Hadrian shook himself. No on cared about him except maybe Cissa. He liked her.

Marvolo took him back to Knockturn, where there was aparently a snake shop. Usually Potions Masters shopped here for ingredients, but sometimes people came to buy them as familiars — according to Marvolo.

“Wh-what are familiars?” Hadrian asked curiously.

“Animals that are connected to your soul, and you to its soul,” Marvolo said shortly, pushing open the door.

Several hissing voices filled the air, and Hadrian gasped quietly.

_~Ssssstupid human, not feeding usssss.~_

_~Kill sssstupid human!~_

_~Hungry…~_

_~Pleaze… help…~_

Hadrian blinked and looked around for the owner of the last voice. He wanted a gentle snake. And this one sounded hurt.

A beautiful, small dark blue snake blinked up at him with tiny black eyes. It had tiny stripes of white and black. It ducked underneath a pile of hay.

_~The tiny human iz looking at me!~_

“ _~Hello,~_ ” Hadrian said gently. Instantly every snakes’ head shot up and they gasped, almost in unison, _~A Ssssspeaker!~_

The little snake poked its head out slightly, gazing at Hadrian with shy curiosity. _~You are a Sssspeaker?~_ she whispered.

_~Don’t ssssspeak to him, weakling, he will want a sssstrong sssssnake!~_ a powerful black snake sneered. _~Pick me, little Ssssspeaker!~_

Hadrian ignored the black snake and said, _~What iz your name?~_

Slowly, she lifted her head more, revealing a gray belly. _~I have no name, little Sssspeaker.~_

“~ _You want that one,~_ ” Marvolo said resignedly. The snakes excitedly chorused about the other speaker, but Marvolo ignored them, too.

“ _~Yesssss,~_ ” Hadrian said shyly.

_~But little Sssspeaker, she iz weak and ssssmall!~_ said another snake angrily. The little snake flinched.

“ _~I am weak and ssssmall,~_ ” Hadrian replied. Marvolo frowned slightly. “ _~May I pick you up?~_ ” he asked the little blue snake gently.

_~Y-yesssss, little Sssspeaker,~_ the little snake said nervously. Hadrian picked her up and held her close. The snake hissed in soft pleasure and snuggled closer.

Marvolo sighed dramatically, earning a giggle from Hadrian. “Very well. This way.” He strode up to the counter, and Hadrian quickly followed.

A skinny witch appeared as soon as they arrived, gasping when she saw Marvolo. “My Lord!” she squeaked.

“I want to buy this snake for my heir,” Marvolo said coolly, gesturing to the little snake curled up in Hadrian’s arms.

The witch sank a little, then shook herself. “Are you sure about _that_ snake, my Lord? There are other, more powerful-”

“ _Are you quesssstioning me?_ ” Marvolo hissed, eyes turning to red slits.

She blanched. “N-no, of course not, my Lord, it’s ten Galleons.”

“She’s a girl, ma’am, not an it,” Hadrian said with a frown.

She gave him a faint sneer, and Marvolo growled. Blanching again, she quickly accepted the bag of Galleons. “And a cage, my Lord?”

“She will most likely roam free with my own familiar,” Marvolo said icily. “Time to go, Hadrian.”

“Okay,” Hadrian agreed. “Thank you, ma’am,” he added shyly to the woman, who melted.

Marvolo huffed and dragged Hadrian out of the store. “She is below you, Hadrian.”

“I was below everyone and you still… saved me,” Hadrian said quietly. “I was a Freak.” He still felt like one.

_~Little Massster iz not a Freak!~_ the little snake said angrily. She squeaked and buried her face in Hadrian’s new green robes. _~I’m ssssorry, Little Massssster-~_

“ _~It’sssss okay… Hope,~_ ” Hadrian added.

Hope reappeared. _~My name iz Hope?~_

“ _~Yesss. Iz that okay?~_ ”

_~I love it,~_ Hope said happily, nuzzling Hadrian’s cheek.

“She speaks like a human,” Marvolo said slowly.

“Um… M-marvolo, what kind of snake is Hope?” Hadrian asked shyly.

“A Common Death Adder,” Marvolo said dryly.

“Oh,” Hadrian said. “How… how do I make her my familiar?”

“There is a ritual, but Narcissa will not allow you to do anything rigorous until you are completely healed,” Marvolo said.

Hadrian winced. “Um… what happened to… my aunt and u-uncle?”

“Your aunt was eaten by Nagini, my familiar, and your uncle suffered every pain he caused you,” Marvolo said dismissively. “Using a spell. My Death Eaters are forbidden from r***ing _._ ” He wrinkled his nose, and Hadrian flinched. Absently, Marvolo pulled Hadrian closer, apparently apologizing for reminding Hadrian of _that._ “Afterward I turned the body to ashes. If I had fed the fat thing to Nagini, she would have had indigestion.”

Hadrian giggled, slightly hysterically, and Hope gently nuzzled his ear. Hadrian relaxed.

_~Sssssomeone hurt Little Masssster?~_ Hope asked concernedly.

“ _~My aunt and u-u-uncle,~_ ” Hadrian stuttered. Hope frowned a little in confusion. “ _~My mother’z ssssisssster and her ssssissster’z mate,~_ ” he amended.

_~Little Massssster iz ssssafe now with Big Masssster,~_ Hope assured him. Marvolo choked indignantly, making Hadrian giggle again.

“Let’s get back before Narcissa has my head,” Marvolo grumbled, making Hadrian giggle harder.


End file.
